


Sleeping Dragons

by ChildOfTheBarricade



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Gen, Hogwarts, Potterlock, Teenlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-03
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-04-07 11:01:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4260933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChildOfTheBarricade/pseuds/ChildOfTheBarricade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A long-term WIP following the adventures of John Watson, a muggle-born wizard, and Sherlock Holmes, a pure-blood, in their time at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Letters

"John! John are you coming, love?"

His mother's voice floated down the hall but John didn't move, as if physically attached to the cold tile floor.

"John?" She stepped out of the kitchen and hurried to where he was still standing. His small body completely still, clutching a letter in his hands. "What's that, dear?"

He jumped slightly and looked up. "Oh. Sorry, Mum. Um… It's for me… But I don't quite… It's okay. It must be a joke."

"What is it?"

He handed it to her and headed dejectedly back to the kitchen.

"It's okay, Mum," he said when she placed the letter on the table. "It's just a joke some guys at school are pulling on me."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. It's fine."

"What's this then?" Harry sauntered down the stairs and plopped herself in front of a bowl of cereal.

"Nothing, love, just some boys playing a trick on your poor brother."

Harry dropped her spoon and stared at him. "Who is?"

John sighed and clenched his hand around the thick piece of parchment. "I… I don't know. It's fine, Harry. It doesn't matter."

"It bloody does!" She snatched the letter from the table and read through it. "They've gone to a lot of trouble…"

"It's fine, just…" He took it from her, tore it into tiny pieces, and threw it out. "Can we just forget about it, please?"

Harry thought for a moment before saying, "John, do you really think they'd be bothered to go to all that trouble just to pick on you a bit. They didn't even get to see your reaction. It's the Summer holidays. I don't think they'd…"

"Harry, just leave it, alright?" He dumped his bowl of half-finished cereal in the sink and stormed upstairs.

...............................................................................................

"John? There's another letter for you!"

"Just throw it out, Mum, I don't care."

...............................................................................................

"John, dear, they're coming through the chimney!"

"What?"

"These letters, love."

"Just… ignore them."

...............................................................................................

"John, can you get the door, love?"

He huffed down the hall in the way only a pre-pubescent boy could, and pulled the door open with a frown. A tall thin man with bright yellow hair, a toothy grin, inexplicably pointy shoes, and wearing a long, navy cloak stood on their doorstep.

"Um…" John said eloquently.

"Mr. John Watson?"

"Uh, yeah."

The man suddenly bowed and then said, "Excellent. May I come in?"

"Er… Mum!"

Mrs. Watson pottered down the hall and said, "Oh my!" when she reached the doorway.

"Good morning, Mrs. Watson."

"Julie, please," she said.

"And my name is Phineas Dickens; I'm from the Department of Magical Education. I'm here to speak with you and your son about his acceptance into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It appears he has not yet received his letter."

They sat in the living room with cups of tea as Phineas Dickens gave John a new letter and proved to them that it was in fact not an unsavory trick being played on him by briefly turning their coffee table into a pig.

"So… what does this mean?" Julie asked as John fiddled with the hem of his shirt.

"Well…" said Phineas. "He's a wizard."

"How? Nobody in our family is…"

"Some people are born with the gift, Mrs. Watson. Your son is one such boy. And in fact, if you look back far enough, I'm sure you'll find magical blood somewhere in your family. There is in just about everyone's."

She shifted in her seat and John looked to the doorway where Harry stood looking particularly grumpy. "Right. Where do we purchase his school things?" was Mrs. Watson's next question.

Phineas slid a map across the table and said, "There's a small pub in central London called the Leaky Cauldron. John, take your letter, and show it to the bartender, her name's Hannah Abbott. She'll help you find your way to Diagon Alley where you can purchase your things for the school year."

"Do you use the same money as us?" John asked, not quite giving the tall man eye contact.

"We don't. When you get to Diagon Alley go straight to Gringotts Bank. Go to the first goblin on the left, he specializes in Muggle-born students. He'll exchange your money for you."

"Goblin?"

"Yes," Phineas nodded enthusiastically. "Goblins work at the bank."

"Goblins."

"Yes, son. Do you have any more questions?"

...............................................................................................

Meanwhile, in a large, comfortable, but slightly odd-looking cottage in the Yorkshire Dales, a lanky boy with dark curly hair and an unfortunate attitude problem was being forced to eat breakfast by his older brother.

"Sherlock, perhaps... I mean have you thought about... And there'd be nothing wrong with it... but maybe it's not coming."

"Shut up, Mycroft, it just hasn't come yet."

Hobbs bustled into the dining room with the mail in his hand and a grin on his face. "Alright boys, two letters from Hogwarts this morning, one for each of you.

"See?" said Sherlock with a sneer, snatching his letter from the elf and carrying it up to his bedroom. He laid back on his bed and tore the envelope open, quickly reading the letter.

 

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY_

_Headmistress: Minerva McGonagall_

_Dear Mr Holmes,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Headmistress_

 

Sherlock grinned and clutched the piece of parchment tightly to his chest.

"I was worried for a moment there, Alberic," he told his dark grey barn owl, who also looked rather excited about going to Hogwarts.

"Sherlock?" Mycroft pushed the bedroom door open and leaned on the doorframe. Sherlock frowned. His brother didn't come to his room unless it was to harass him. "Is it your letter?" he asked kindly, using a tone he usually only brought out if Sherlock had hurt himself.

"Yes," said Sherlock. "Did you get prefect?"

Mycroft nodded. "I did."

"Congratulations."

"And to you, little brother." He turned to leave but Sherlock spoke.

"Mycroft... What if it doesn't... what if it doesn't put me in Slytherin?"

Mycroft frowned. "Well... Don't worry about that. It's unlikely that you won't be put in Slytherin. All of our ancestors..."

"But Mum and Dad..."

"I know," he nodded. "But everyone else on both sides of our family were in Slytherin, Sherlock. And I think ypu'd fit quite nicely in that house."

Sherlock sighed and nodded, fiddling with his hands. "I don't want to be a disappointment like Dad," he said softly.

"Dad's not a disappointment. He's just... I mean, I know our grandparents aren't... happy with him. But he had me, and I'm a Slytherin prefect," he said confidently.

Sherlock nodded and sighed, reading over his letter again.

Mycroft smiled and ruffled his brother's hair before standing and pointing at the owl sitting regally on his perch. "Alberic will be pleased to go somewhere new."

"So will I," Sherlock decided as the elder Holmes closed the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: When will the boys meet? On the train? In Transfiguration? Tune in next time for a trip to Diagon Alley. This story will be updated every Friday with special chapters earlier in the week if you're lucky ;)


	2. Diagon Alley

"John, hurry up, we have to go. Are you coming, Harry?"

John hurried down the stairs, stuffing his Hogwarts letter into his pocket. Harry sighed and shrugged. "I guess," she nodded.

"Come off it, Harry. You're dying to see it all. You're just jealous," John snapped as Julie sighed.

"John, don't be so unkind. Hurry up or we'll miss the train."

He nodded as Harry scowled. "Actually, you know what? I'm not coming," she said, stomping her way back up the stairs.

Julie hurried John out of the front door. "Mum... How are we going to get everything back on the train?"

"We'll just have to manage, dear," she said softly as they started walking towards the train station. "John, do you know how much the school things will cost?"

John shook his head. "No. Sorry. I've no idea. I tried googling it but I couldn't find anything at all. But I'm sure I'll be able to get second-hand books and things. Just like normal school stuff."

"You don't need to worry, love. I was just wondering. Are you alright?" she frowned, touching his cheek and looking him up and down. "You're very pale."

"I'm fine," he nodded. "Just a bit nervous."

John was silent for the entire trip, tapping his foot impatiently on the platform when their train was delayed. He stared out of the train window all the way into central London, and walked quickly through bustling shoppers. John smiled when he saw the small, grimy pub, The Leaky Cauldron a little way ahead.

"John, dear," Julie said softly. "Are you sure we're in the right place?"

He frowned slightly and nodded. "Yeah. It's just up there," he said, pointing.

"Oh," she said. "I didn't even... I didn't even see that place."

John smiled brightly. "This is it," he said, pushing the door open. "Wow," he whispered as he saw the odd assortment of what he could only assume were witches and wizards, all in long cloaks, many wearing strange hats, or with outlandish pieces of jewelry draped around their necks and wrists. Julie stopped in the doorway and John laughed, pulling her inside and heading to the bar. A kind looking woman stood behind the bar, wiping down the benches. She smiled sweetly when she saw John. "Erm... Good morning," he said softly. "I want... I need to get to Diagon Alley," he managed, holding tightly onto his letter.

"Of course, dear," she smiled. "Muggle-born?"

He thought for a moment before nodding. "Um... Yeah, I think so."

"Wonderful. Well, I'll tell you what, I'll get my husband to take you through and show you where to go. He's a teacher at Hogwarts. Neville!" she called past John, and a tall man who was perhaps the most normally dressed in the entire pub, stood up and smiled.

"Hey," he said, smiling at John as he walked over. "I'm Professor Longbottom. I teach Herbology at Hogwarts."

"I'm John," he said, his voice barely audible. "Erm... What's Herbology?" he asked as Professor Longbottom led him out into the courtyard, tapped a few bricks and smiled as the wall John had presumed was solid, split into a wide archway. Julie jumped back, holding her hand to her heart.

"Herbology is the study of magical and mundane plants and fungi. It's a core subject at Hogwarts. You'll study it at the very least from first to fifth year," Professor Longbottom explained. "Alright then. Gringotts, that's the bank, it's up at the end there, see? The big white building." He pointed up at the towering old building and John nodded.

"Right," he said in a small voice. "That's where we..."

"Get your money, yes," he said cheerfully. "And down there, that's Ollivander's, that's where you'll buy your wand."

John nodded and bit his lip. "Sir... Professor, can I ask... What do we... What do we use the wands for?"

Neville chuckled and John's cheeks turned pink. "For magic, son. You use them for magic. I'll just be in The Leaky Cauldron if you need me. Good luck then," he smiled, waving as he headed back inside.

John looked back at Julie and gave her a small smile. "Erm... Right then... The bank? Gringotts, I mean."

Julie nodded and took his hand. John stared around at the shops and people surrounding them. There was a large number of children and teenagers milling about which John supposed were also Hogwarts students. He stopped in front of a shop called Eeyelops Owl Emporium. "Mum, look at them!" he beamed, staring at the huge number of owls, cats, toads, rats, and animals he didn't recognize, staring out at him from the tall stack of cages and tanks in the window.

Julie chuckled and tugged on his arm. "Come on, love. We'll get our money and have a look at if we can afford to get you a pet, alright?"

He nodded and smiled. "The letter said an owl, a cat or a toad," he said.

"We'll get your school things first, alright?" she said, staying close to him as they passed a huge group of women, all talking over the top of each other as they bustled past. Julie led John to the large white building that was Gringotts Bank, pushing the doors open but freezing as she looked inside the building. John stared at the goblins sitting at long counters up and down the enormous hall. Once the shock had worn off slightly, John cleared his throat and pulled Julie over to the first goblin on the left, as he'd been told. He gave a small smile and stood on his toes to peer over the counter at the goblin.

"How can I help you?" the goblin said brusquely, not looking up from his paperwork.

"Erm..." John squeaked. "I er... We... I need to exchange some... pounds."

The goblin looked up and pushed his glasses up his nose. "Muggle?" he asked, sighing at John's nod. "First year?" John nodded again and Julie managed to relocate her voice.

"How much money will I need to change over?" she asked, pulling out her purse.

"You'll need approximately two hundred and fifty galleons," he said. "Current exchange rate takes that to... one thousand, two hundred and forty pounds, Madam."

Julie blinked for a moment. "Right," she said softly, handing over her credit card before frowning. "Oh... do you... take card?"

He sighed and handed it back. "We have a... machine for it, over there. Ministry's orders," he said, pointing to an ATM in the corner. Julie nodded and quickly withdrew the cash, handing it over to the goblin while he counted out gold, silver and bronze coins, piling them into a money bag. "Remember that if he's careful with his things, many of the items you buy today will last him until the end of his time at Hogwarts."

Julie nodded and John carefully took the money bag, looking up at her. "Are you sure we can..."

"Don't worry, John," she cut across him. "It's fine. We'll be fine. What would you like to buy first?"

John thought hard as they left the bank and stepped back onto the cobblestone street. "Erm... My wand," he said, looking up at her. She nodded and smiled, taking his hand again as they walked down to Ollivanders.

A bell rang somewhere towards the back of the shop when John pushed the door open, and a small, very old man pottered out to greet them. "Ah, a muggle!" he beamed at the sight of Julie who looked slightly offended at being continually called this. "Here for your wand are you?" he asked, looming over John and pulling a tape measure from his pocket. With a wave of his wand it unrolled itself and starting poking, prodding and measuring John in the oddest of places while the man, John assumed he was Ollivander, talked at them.

"Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr... What did you say your name was, boy?"

John jumped slightly and stuttered, "I... um... er... I didn't. I'm John Watson."

"Mr. Watson," he nodded. "We use unicorn hairs, phoenix feathers, and dragon heartstrings in our wands," he said, heading over to where innumerable long, narrow boxes were stacked on shelves, pulling some boxes out and setting them on the counter. "Right. Try this one. Cyprus wood with a phoenix feather core. 11 and a half inches, fairly pliable," he said as the measuring tape fell to the floor. Ollivander handed John a wand and smiled. "Give it a try then," he prompted, and John bit his lip, giving the wand a small wave.

He felt the wand vibrate in his hand, and his chest suddenly felt very warm and comfortable as Ollivander clapped. "Excellent. It's not often I get it on the first go."

Julie frowned slightly. "What do you mean? Doesn't he get to choose? John, do you like that one?"

"What?" snapped Ollivander. "Choose? He doesn't choose. The wand chooses the wizard, madam, not the other way around."

"Oh," said Julie as John turned the wand over in his hands.

"Don't go waving it around!" Ollivander exclaimed as some sparks flew out of the end. He snatched it from him and carefully placed it in its box. "That will be 16 galleons and 7 sickles."

"Er... What's a... Which is which?" John frowned, opening the money bag.

"Oh. The gold ones are galleons and the silver ones are sickles," he explained as John counted them out. As John handed the money over, the old man gave him his wand, in its box, wrapped in brown paper and tied up in string.

John smiled and took Julie's hand, dragging her back out onto the street. "Mum, it's real!" he said, his face breaking into a grin.

"I know, love," she smiled, kissing his forehead. "You're really a wizard. Let's get your robes, hmm? Then you'll look like a real wizard," she said, leading him over to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. Madam Malkin smiled brightly at them and rushed John over to stand on a small box while she measured him. "Hogwarts first year, I presume?" she asked, pinning some robes as she measured him.

John stood still while Julie chatted to Madam Malkin about the various robes and cloaks she had displayed. He looked up when he heard the door open again, and a tall, thin boy with pale skin and dark, curly hair walked in, followed by his parents. This was clearly a wizarding family. The boy was chatting to his father about owl breeds and their reliability, while his mother looked around at a rack which was labeled, 'Dress Robes'.

Madam Malkin pushed the other boy beside John, not needing to put him on a box as he was already so tall. John tried not to make eye contact, staring at the floor and hoping that the boy didn't give him the chance to show exactly how little he knew.

"Good morning," said the boy as Madam Malkin starting measuring him as well. "Hogwarts too?" he asked, tilting his head in an effort to see John's face.

"Yeah," John said softly, fiddling with his hands.

"Are you a Muggle-born? Which is fine, by the way," the other boy said as his parents were joined by an even taller boy who appeared to be in his mid-teens, and had a glinting green and silver badge pinned to his chest.

"Yeah, I am. Nobody else in my family..." he trailed off and shrugged. "I'm John Watson," he said softly.

"I'm Sherlock Holmes," said the boy. "My entire family are wizards."

John nodded. "Have you got your other school things already?"

Sherlock shook his head. "Only my wand. I still have to get books and everything."

"Are you going to get a pet?" John asked, looking up at him.

"I've already got an owl," Sherlock nodded. "So I'll be taking him. I think owls are the best pet you can take to school. Then you can write home to your parents."

John smiled. "Do they deliver letters?"

"How do you think your school letter got to you? Anyway, I think you'll almost definitely be in Gryffindor," he said. "I'll probably be in Slytherin. My brother is in Slytherin, but my parents were both in Gryffindor."

John raised an eyebrow. "Sorry... I... Have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh," Sherlock frowned. "You really know... nothing at all," he said, and John's ears turned crimson. "Gryffindor and Slytherin are two of the Hogwarts houses. There are four, those two and Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff as well," he explained. "We'll be sorted into our houses on our first night there by the sorting hat. It's as old as the school itself and can read your mind," he said eagerly. "So it decides what house you should be in."

"B-based on what?" John asked, his eyes wide at the thought for a hat that could read his mind.

"Your personality, your wants and desires... it's brilliant," he smiled. "How are you finding Diagon Alley? I love it here, there's so much to see. Sorry. Am I asking too many questions? Mum said that I should ask people questions about themselves instead of just talking about myself," he babbled before staring at his feet.

"No, it's fine, really," John said, smiling at him. "This is all just a lot to take in. It's so different."

Sherlock smiled and nodded. "It is. I'm sure the currency is confusing."

John nodded. "And everyone seems to... expect that I'll figure it out," he said softly.

Sherlock thought for a moment while Madam Malkin pinned up the bottom of his robes. "Why don't we shop together?" he asked, his voice suddenly small. "I can help you with everything. You've only got your wand so far," he said, gesturing to the package Julie was holding.

John smiled. "That... That would be nice. Only if you don't mind," he said, looking over at Sherlock's family.

"It's fine. Dad loves Muggles, he'll love to chat with your Mum."

John laughed and nodded. "Okay. Sounds great," he smiled as Madam Malkin let him down and discussed the costs of the robes, ending up giving Julie directions to the second-hand robes shop.

John hurried over to them. "Sherlock's going to help us," he told Julie. "He's a wizard. He's a first-year too. But all his family are wizards, and he has an owl already. But all he's picked up for school is his wand," he babbled as Julie chuckled and patted his shoulder.

"Alright, dear. We'd better be going then."

In no time at all, Mycroft and some school friends had disappeared into Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment, Violet and Siger Holmes were walking along, chatting happily with Julie Watson, and John and Sherlock were dawdling along behind them, Sherlock pointing out anything he thought John might find interesting. They each picked up their cauldrons, school books and equipment, leaving only the apothecary. Sherlock smiled brightly.

"This is my favourite shop," he said happily. "I've dabbled a little in potions already. That's a core subject. We have to do it from..."

"First to fifth years," John nodded. "Professor Longbottom told me."

Sherlock's eyes widened. "Neville Longbottom? He was in Gryffindor when he went to Hogwarts. He fought in the Battle of Hogwarts. Mycroft says that he destroyed one of You-Know-Who's Horcruxes. But I suppose you have no idea what I'm talking about. It's in that revised version of Hogwarts A History you bought. I've already got it. Mum bought it for my birthday. I read it over the Summer. I'll send you a list of the pages you should read before term starts, so you're not too behind. Is that presumptuous?" he asked softly, and John shook his head.

"It's fine. I'd really appreciate that actually. I don't like reading too much, but I don't want everyone to think I'm an idiot."

"Oh, good. I didn't... I've never really had... f-friends. Apart from my brother, I mean. And my owl. So I don't really know how to do it."

"That's fine. Now you've got one, so you can learn," John smiled, looking around at all of the barrels and tubs full of things he'd never seen before. "Sherlock... What is all this stuff for?"

Sherlock shrugged. "Potions mostly, like I said. Some of it can be fed to certain magical creatures, or used to grow magical plants. But it's mostly used for potions. Don't look for too long though or you'll buy the entire shop. All you want is a standard potions kit. That'll have everything you need for preliminary potions."

John smiled. "Thanks heaps, Sherlock. I really appreciate it. I mean it."

He nodded. "I know you do. It's no trouble," he shrugged.

Once they'd each purchased their potions supplies, Violet smiled as Mycroft joined them again, tapping his foot impatiently. "We need to go, Sherlock. John, will you be alright to get your robes?" she asked gently.

John nodded and smiled. "I'll be fine. Thank you. Thanks for all your help."

He waved and Sherlock smiled at him before heading back out onto the street. John suddenly thought of something he'd forgotten to ask. "Sherlock!" he called, running outside as Sherlock smiled and turned around. "On my train ticket, it says platform nine and three quarters. Where is that?"

Sherlock chuckled. "Go to the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Just run at the barrier, it'll let you through," he smirked. "I'll be on the third compartment of the second-last carriage. See you there," he said, waving again before hurrying off towards his parents.


	3. The Hogwarts Express

John was sitting on his bed, flicking through all of his school books when he heard a strange tapping noise at his window. He looked up to find a barn owl sitting on the ledge outside his window, a thick envelope held in its beak. John opened the window and the owl swooped in, dropping the heavy letter on his head before landing on the back of his desk chair. 

"Oh," said John. "Erm... Hello." He quickly opened the envelope, pulling out two small books, and a couple of pieces of parchment. He smiled brightly as he read the letter.

 

John,

This is my owl. His name is Alberic. I named him after the inventor of the dungbomb. I've told him to wait until you've written a reply since you don't have your own owl. But if you don't want to write back then just tell him and he'll leave. Although he might hang around a little until you feed him. Just some toast will do. I've attached a list of what you should have a read of in your school books, and in 'Hogwarts: A History'. I've also enclosed a copy of 'Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them' (for you to keep). I encourage you to at least skim through it before school or you won't know half of what anyone's talking about when it comes to magical creatures. 

Finally, I've sent you my copy (to borrow) of 'Quidditch Through the Ages'. It's a book about our sport, Quidditch. I strongly recommend you look through the section on gameplay before school starts as Quidditch is a hugely important part of school life and I don't want you to look like an idiot. I expect you'll be on the Gryffindor Quidditch team next year. You'll either play Beater or Chaser. I was going to send you some of our sweets but I decided to save that for the train, I'd quite like to see your reaction. 

See you on September 1st.

Sherlock Holmes.

 

John smiled and instantly grabbed a piece of paper and a pen from his desk. 

 

Sherlock,

Thanks for the letter, and the books, that was really thoughtful. I hope we're put in the same house at school. I'd like to have already made one friend when term starts. Either way, I expect we'll have classes together and things like that. See you on September 1st.

John.

PS: I'm not sure exactly how to send your owl back to you. Hope he doesn't get lost. 

 

John gave Alberic a bit of leftover toast and held his letter out to him. "Er... I need that to go back to Sherlock. Please," he said. The owl gave him a small alarmed look before flying out of the window with the letter clasped in his beak. "Right," he nodded, pulling out the second piece of parchment which had a heading for each school book, and listed the pages he should read. He started with 'A History of Magic', laying on his bed and balancing it on his stomach as he read.

..............................................

Sherlock was woken early on the morning of September 1st by his mother opening his bedroom door and throwing the curtains open with her wand. "Breakfast, Sherlock. Quickly, we can't be late for the train. Up up!"

He groaned and stretched before climbing out of bed and tossing 'A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration', into his trunk, pulling the top closed and snapping it shut. Alberic gave him a disgruntled look at being woken so early, and Sherlock ushered him into his cage, closing its door and setting it on top of his trunk. He quickly got dressed and headed out to the kitchen where Hobbs had prepared his usual back-to-school breakfast feast. Sherlock smiled brightly as he sat down and had a large plate of food set in front of him by the house elf.

"Does that Muggle-born friend of yours need help getting to the train, Sherlock?" his mother asked as she fussed over his hair.

He shook his head as he ate his bacon. "I told him how to get onto the platform."

"Sherlock..." Mycroft began through a mouthful of croissant. "You don't want to be spending too much time with Muggle-borns. Slytherins don't like that sort of thing. You'll end up making enemies in your own house."

Sherlock frowned at him while Violet moved to fussing about the state of his shoes. "Well I don't know that I really want to be friends with those sorts of people, Mycroft," he snapped.

"You know it's not how I feel about Muggle-borns either. I just mean... You should keep your opinions to yourself, and not be so friendly with them. Even half-bloods."

Violet sighed. "Mycroft, he might not even be put in Slytherin. There's no need for him to treat Muggle-borns or half-bloods any differently to anybody else. Don't you worry, Sherlock," she said firmly.

Sherlock finished his breakfast and sat on his trunk by the front door, re-reading 'The Standard Book of Spells: Grade One' until Mycroft finally had Hobbs hover his trunk and his owl down the stairs. Sherlock grinned and stuffed the book back into his trunk, picking up Alberic's cage. "Hurry up boys," Violet said, hurrying into the foyer and rushing them down the front steps. She held her wand out and Sherlock grinned as the Knight Bus pulled up out the front of their cottage.

"King's Cross then, come on, come on," said the conductor, rushing Sherlock onto the bus. Mycroft scrambled on after him and sat himself in an armchair. Sherlock sat beside him with Alberic's cage on his knee, smiling and waving at Hobbs through the window. Violet and Siger sat on a sofa across the aisle from them, smiling as they purchased their tickets and the bus tore off down the street. 

Sherlock sat quietly and watched out the window while Alberic went to sleep in his cage. "King's Cross Station!" The conductor yelled from the front of the bus and the bus pulled to a halt. Alberic's cage flew off of Sherlock's lap and broke in two on the floor while the owl fluttered up onto Sherlock's knee and gave his hand a small nip for dropping him. 

A Hogwarts trunk slid down the aisle and Siger stopped it with his wand, quickly fixing the bird cage, "Reparo," and helping up a tiny boy who'd been flung from his seat. "Right then, off we go," he smiled, helping Sherlock stuff his owl back into the cage and carry his trunk from the bus. They each loaded their luggage onto a trolley and pushed it towards platforms nine and ten. 

"Sherlock!" a small voice somewhere behind them called. "Hey, Sherlock!"

Sherlock turned around and smiled when he saw John hurrying to catch up with them, his mother rushing after him, pushing his trolley. "Hey," Sherlock smiled as Violet waved wildly at Julie. Mycroft sighed and hurried ahead of them, hurtling through the barrier between platforms nine and ten, followed closely by their father.

John blinked dumbly at the spot where Sherlock's brother had apparently vanished into thin air. "It's just a Concealment Charm, dear," Violet said, giving John and Sherlock a gentle push towards the barrier.

"You go first," Sherlock said. "Go at a bit of a run," he said gently, standing aside while John took his trolley from Julie and took a few steps back, before running headlong into the platform. He braced himself for the impact which never came, rather, he opened his eyes to find himself on a platform swarming with students and parents, owls and cats. White smoke billowed from the bright red Hogwarts Express, and John beamed from ear to ear as Sherlock appeared at his side. "It's cool, isn't it?" he smiled, patting John on the back and pushing his trolley over to where his father was chatting with some other parents. 

Siger helped the boys load their trunks onto the train as Violet and Julie caught up with them, Violet doing her best to explain house elves to her. "Their rights have come a very long way in the last twenty years, although our Hobbs has always received payment and holidays. But it's still not like that for everyone. Sherlock Holmes, don't you dare get on that train without saying goodbye!"

Sherlock's cheeks flushed and he rolled his eyes, stepping back onto the platform, followed closely by John, to hug and kiss their mothers goodbye. Violet held Sherlock by the shoulders and sighed. "You be good, Sherlock. No getting up to trouble, alright? I don't want any letters from Professor McGonagall."

"Okay, Mum. What makes you think I'd get up to trouble?" he said, doing his best to look innocent. 

"Just don't and I won't have to worry," she said firmly, kissing his forehead and letting Siger hug him. 

"Alright, boys, you'd best go," he said gently as John hugged Julie again before following Sherlock onto the train. He pulled the door closed behind them and opened a window so they could wave out at their parents until the platform was out of sight.

Sherlock and John pushed their way past groups of students talking excitedly in the corridor, eventually finding an empty compartment and sliding inside. With their trunks and Alberic situated, they sat down beside the window, facing each other.

"Sherlock," John eventually said. "That man your Dad was talking to... was that Harry Potter?"

The other boy smiled brightly and nodded. "You read what I said to," he said softly. "Yeah. Dad knows him from work. Harry Potter's an Auror, a dark wizard catcher." 

"Wow," John said softly. "And what does your Dad do?"

"He's an Unspeakable. He works in the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry of Magic."

"What does that mean?"

Sherlock shrugged. "Nobody really knows. That's why they're called Unspeakables. They're not allowed to say what they do. But Mycroft says they study time travel there, and love and death. But that could be a lie. He likes to sound impressive."

John smiled and fiddled with his hands. "Sherlock, are you worried about being sorted?" he asked softly.

Sherlock nodded and bit his lip. "Yeah. I... My grandparents, on both sides are really... intense about Slytherin. They... I think some of them were Death Eaters, back when You-Know-Who was in power. I'm sure they were. Not that... I mean, not that all Slytherins are related to Death Eaters. Just... My family will be disappointed... ashamed, if I'm not put in Slytherin. But I know that... I know that I won't be able to make friends there. And I know that I shouldn't let... me being worried about my family, get in the way of the Sorting Hat putting me in the house I should be in."

John sighed as he listened, for the first time, feeling glad that he wasn't from a wizarding family. "Well I'm sure the Sorting Hat will just put you exactly where you're supposed to be," he said confidently as a small, plump woman pushing a food trolley opened the door to their compartment. 

"Anything from the trolley, dears?" she said sweetly, and Sherlock jumped up, grabbing a handful of gold from his pocket and quickly returning with a towering pile of food which he settled on the seat next to him. 

"Right. Never mind all of that housing rubbish. Here, Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. Be careful, they are every flavour. Once when I was four, Mycroft made me eat a sand flavoured one."

John pulled a face and hesitated before taking the box from him and opening it up. He pulled out a small dark brown piece and laughed at Sherlock's face before popping it in his mouth and grimacing. "Burnt toast," he said, coughing and swallowing it. "What are those?" he asked, pointing to a stack of Chocolate Frogs.

Sherlock smiled and handed him one. "Open it. The frogs are charmed to move. So eat them quick or you'll lose it. And it comes with a card. I collect the cards," he smiled as John tore the packet open and grabbed the frog tightly in his hand while it wriggled.

He smiled brightly as he pulled the card out. "I got Harry Potter!" John grinned, reading the back of the card before flipping it back over and looking at the picture. "Sherlock, he's moving!"

Sherlock smiled. "Didn't I tell you? All of our pictures move. I forgot that Muggle pictures stay still."

"They all move?" John's eyes widened and he smiled. "Wow. That's brilliant."

They worked their way through the sweets until there was another knock at the door, and a tall boy with messy brown hair smiled, pushing the door open. He was followed closely by a tiny little girl, already dressed in her school robes, fiddling with them nervously as the boy smiled. "Hi. I'm Greg," he said. "And this is Molly," he gave her a small tug into the compartment and pulled the door closed. "Mind if we join you? We sort of got kicked out of our compartment by some Slytherins. Are you both first years too?"

John nodded. "I'm John Watson," he smiled, offering them each a cauldron cake. "And this is Sherlock."

"Pleasure," Greg smiled, taking a cauldron cake and stuffing it into his mouth as Molly stared at Sherlock who was frowning out of the window as John and Greg launched into a conversation about Muggle sports. 

Sherlock rolled his eyes when somebody knocked on the door again, and his frown deepened when he looked up to find Mycroft and some of his fellow Slytherins pushing the compartment door open. "There you are, Sherlock," Mycroft said. "You first years had better get changed into your robes. We'll be arriving at Hogsmeade in half an hour. And Sherlock, get that scowl off of your face or you'll have lost house points before you've got a house to lose them for," he said, pulling the door shut and heading down the hall to terrorize some more first years.

"How does he know who you are?" Greg asked, peering into the corridor after them.

Sherlock shrugged and turned to look out the window again. Greg sighed, pulled the door closed and sat back down. Within minutes, their compartment door had flown open again. "Oh, what now?" Sherlock said angrily, looking up to find a small boy with dark hair standing in the doorway, flanked by a small group of boys, all looking around the compartment with sneers. 

"What are you doing in here with them?" the boy said to Sherlock, glaring at John and Greg.

Sherlock frowned for a moment, standing up, his fingers hovering over his wand that he'd tucked into his back pocket. "What's it to you?"

The boy shrugged. "Seems off to me, that's all. A pure-blood wizard like you, spending your time with... well... Mudbloods," he said, relishing in the word as it fell from his lips.

Sherlock pulled his wand out and pointed it at the boy. "Don't use that word."

"Or what?" the boy asked, pulling out his own wand, sleek and black. 

"Or I'll curse you," Sherlock said simply.

The boy pulled a face. "We all know that you're a first-year too, Sherlock Holmes. I'll be very impressed if you can curse me." He smirked at Sherlock and looked around the compartment once more. "The name's James Moraiarty. If you wanted to spend time with some real wizards, Sherlock. We're sitting with the other Slytherins a few compartments up," he said, glaring at John and Greg again. "Until then, have fun with your little Mudbloods."

It happened before anyone realised it was going to happen. Sherlock shouted, "Petrificus Totalis!", and Moriarty fell to the ground, his legs pinned together and his arms pressed to his sides, his face mirroring the shock everyone else was feeling. Sherlock bit his lip and put his wand back in his pocket. "Well?" he said, glaring at the three boys surrounding Moriarty's motionless body.

"Did you kill him?" one of the boys asked, his voice barely a whisper as he looked at Sherlock.

"Of course I didn't kill him, you idiot. Go and get one of the prefects to do the counter-curse," he snapped, and they quickly grabbed Moriarty's arms and legs, carrying him out of the compartment and down the corridor.

Sherlock turned to look at the others in his compartment. John's eyes were wide as he stared at him. Molly's mouth was hanging open, and Greg grinned. "What was that?" he asked. "Can you teach me how to do that?"

Sherlock chuckled and sat back down across John. "It's just a little curse. Nothing nasty. There are probably people in second year that know the counter-curse. I just haven't learnt it yet," he shrugged. 

"Hardly anyone can do spells before they start, because you're not allowed to practice at home. Was that really the first time you've cast that spell?" Molly asked softly.

"It was the first time I've cast any spell," Sherlock shrugged. "I mean, I've practiced potions before. But not spells," he shrugged. 

"Wow," she said softly, sitting back in her seat as Mycroft pushed the door open again.

Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes. "What?"

"Did you put a body-binding curse on another first-year? Because if you did..."

"He deserved it. You can tell Professor McGonagall if you think it was so terrible," he snapped and Mycroft took a breath as if he was about to speak, before stopping himself and slamming the door shut on his way back down the corridor.

..............................................

As the train pulled up to Hogsmeade station, which they could barely see for the heavy rain bucketing down outside, two prefects came to collect the four of them, helping them gather their things together and check their uniforms. The boy, who had electric blue hair, and whose tie and robes were already slightly askew, looked at Sherlock with a smile. "Did you... Did you really body-bind that Moriarty kid? I'm Teddy, by the way. Teddy Lupin," he said, and Sherlock gave a small nod.

"Erm... Yeah, I did. But he..."

"It's okay," Teddy chuckled. "I heard what he did. Pretty impressive you can cast a spell like that when you haven't even started yet. Destined for Ravenclaw, I'd say," he said as he led them down the corridor and off the train onto the platform. 

"Oh," Sherlock managed as he slipped on the wet paving, and an enormous man waded through the swarm of students to grab the collar of Sherlock's robes, lifting him a few inches off the ground. Sherlock made a small squeaking sound as he looked up at the man whose dark, long, matted hair and beard were dripping wet.

"You Sherlock 'Olmes?" the man asked.

Sherlock gave him a small nod and the blue-haired boy laughed as the gigantic man nodded and set him on the ground. "Righ'. I've bin told ter keep an eye on you. And Professor McGonagall wants ter see you once we get to the castle."

Sherlock nodded again, his hair dripping wet, and the enormous man patted his back so hard that he had to grab onto his moleskin overcoat to stop himself falling over.

"I'm Professor Hagrid. I'm the gamekeeper 'ere at Hogwarts, and I teach Care of Magical Creatures from third year onwards," he explained, leading Sherlock, John, Greg and Molly over to the dock where a small fleet of boats bobbed in the turbulent water of an enormous, black lake. 

Sherlock blinked a few times. “Are we… Going in those boats?” he asked, looking up at Hagrid.

“Yeah!” he laughed. “Didn’t yer big brother tell you that?”

Sherlock huffed. “I don’t think he told me anything useful at all.”

“Don’t worry about it,” John said, grabbing Sherlock’s arm as he climbed into one of the small boats, not bothering to worry about getting wet, as he was already soaked through his robes. Sherlock clambered in after him, and they watched as all of the other first years got themselves settled. Moriarty, his arms and legs now free, glared at Sherlock as he climbed into his boat.

“I don’t want to share a dormitory with him,” Sherlock said quietly. “And he’ll definitely be in Slytherin.”

“But maybe you won’t be,” John replied. “From what I’ve read about Slytherin, you don’t seem to really fit.”

“Is that so?” he snapped. “Students sorted into Slytherin display traits such as; resourcefulness, cunning, ambition, self-preservation, and cleverness. I’ve been told since I was very small that I would make a perfect Slytherin.”

“Well I’ve read that Ravenclaw students tend to be a bit… you know… eccentric. Isn’t that you?” John said.

Sherlock shrugged. “I guess. I mean… I just don’t know if avoiding Moriarty is worth the howlers I’ll have delivered at breakfast tomorrow.”

John frowned slightly. “Howlers?”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll find out what they are tomorrow morning.”

John grabbed the side of the boat as, in an instant, the entire fleet of boats, full of eleven-year-olds, pulled away from the docks and started to make their way across the dark water.

Sherlock grinned at him as they rounded a corner and Hogwarts Castle came into view. “It’s massive!” John said, beaming from ear to ear as rainwater dripped from his hair.

“Bigger than I expected,” Sherlock admitted, his own hair plastered flat onto his head, only a few rebellious curls managing to flick back up around his ears.

As the boats docked somewhere underneath the castle, something invisible hit the side of their boat and it tipped, launching John over the side and into the dark water. He spluttered as he resurfaced and Hagrid grabbed the hood of his robes, pulling him up onto the shore. Sherlock glared over at Moriarty’s boat where he was smirking at them.

“I ‘ope that was some sort of accident. We wouldn’t want to get off to a bad start,” Hagrid said firmly, looking over at Moriarty. “You best go with your friend ‘ere to see Professor McGonagall. She’ll dry you off nice,” he said to John.

“Excuse me, Professor,” Moriarty said with a frown. “You may not have noticed. But we’re all wet.”

“Well then you’d better be careful I don’t send you to see the headmistress as well,” Hagrid said, staring him down until the small boy rolled his eyes and sauntered back to his group of friends.

Hagrid started leading them all up the grass to the front of the castle, Sherlock hurrying to catch up to him, and John hurrying to catch up with Sherlock. “Sir? Professor,” Sherlock said until Hagrid looked at him. “You know he did that to the boat, right?”

He nodded and sighed, pushing the enormous front doors open. “I can’t prove it. Can you?”

Sherlock frowned as they came to a stop in the enormous Entrance Hall. “What are those?” John asked softly, pointing to the empty house point hourglasses.

Sherlock looked at him for a moment. “Oh. Those are… I suppose they tally the house points.”

“House points,” John repeated dumbly as a tall, frightening looking woman approached them.

“I’ve got two for you, Professor,” Hagrid said, motioning at John and Sherlock.

“Two?” she said, looking slightly alarmed.

“The little one just needs a dry-off.”

“And this is Mr. Holmes,” she nodded. “They’re all soaked,” she sighed, waving her wand in the general direction of the cluster of first-years. A few of them gasped as their hair, uniforms and cloaks instantly dried. “Come with me, Mr. Holmes,” she said sternly, turning on her heel and heading up the large marble staircase.

Sherlock followed her at a jog, trying to take in where he was going, but being almost completely unable to focus on anything other than his panic.  
Professor McGonagall led him down numerous corridors and up three or four staircases, he’d lost count while he was worrying about what his parents would say when he turned up on their doorstep tomorrow morning.

She finally stopped walking and turned to face what appeared to be a completely blank, very solid wall. Sherlock blinked at her for a moment before she waved her wand and the wall disappeared, revealing a spiral staircase which she hurried up. Sherlock followed her up the stairs, staring around the circular office when he got to the top.

“Sit down please, Mr. Holmes,” Professor McGonagall said as she sat behind her desk.

Sherlock nodded, pulling his eyes away from a neatly stack pile of spellbooks that reached from floor to ceiling, and sitting in the rickety chair opposite her.

“I see you have taken a certain disliking to Mr. Moriarty,” said Professor McGonagall. “I did suspect that young James would cause… issues throughout the incoming year of students. However, I did not expect a Holmes to take offense to him. Especially not so quickly.” She stopped speaking and peered over her glasses at him.

“Um,” said Sherlock.

She nodded and continued. “I also must admit that I’m quite impressed, if not a little alarmed, that you’ve found yourself capable of a full-body bind curse given that, I presume, you’ve never had any sort of magical instruction before.”

“No,” he managed.

“However, it seems that you have read Mr. Viridian’s Curses and Counter-curses.”

Sherlock nodded. “Yes, Professor. And I’ve practiced the hand movements.”

“But you’ve never cast a spell before?” she asked with a quirked eyebrow.

He shook his head. “Not with a wand, anyway.”

Professor McGonagall frowned slightly. “What do you mean by that?”

“Well… I mean, I’ve never done it on purpose. But sometimes… especially if I’m practicing the… the movements for spells… sometimes I accidentally cast them. Without a wand,” he explained.

“I see,” she said softly. “Which house do you think you’re going to be put into this evening?”

“I… I don’t really know.”

“Alright. Which house would you like to be put in this evening?”

Sherlock bit his lip. “I don’t want to be in a house with Moriarty. And he’ll be put in Slytherin. I’d like to be in the same house as John Watson. He’s a muggle-born and he’s sort of… nice. But I think he’ll be put in Gryffindor and I don’t think I will.”

She nodded slowly. “I’d best get you down to the Great Hall then.”

Sherlock blinked at her. “You mean I’m not in trouble?”

“Well I can’t exactly take house points off somebody who isn’t in a house yet,” she said, standing up. “Detention. I’d like to see you for detention. Tomorrow evening at eight o’clock,” she decided, and Sherlock nodded. 

“Okay… Thank you.”

..............................................

Sherlock was rushed down a few hidden passageways and shoved through a tapestry into a small room where the rest of the first years were gathered. He pushed through the tightly packed students until he found John, chatting to Greg and Molly.

“Oh good,” Greg said, giving him a lop-sided grin. “You’re not expelled then?”

“No,” he said thoughtfully. “I have detention tomorrow evening, that’s all.”

“What’s she like?” John asked.

Sherlock shrugged. “Quite nice, really,” he said as Professor Longbottom opened a door to the left of the room and gave them a grin.

“We’re ready for you all then,” he smiled. “Get in your line,” he said, ushering them out into the Great Hall.

“Alphabetical order,” John said, nudging Sherlock. “You’re in front of Molly and behind that kid there,” he said as they all ambled out of the small room. They followed Professor Longbottom around the back of the long house tables and up between the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, stopping at the front where a small, three-legged stool was settled in full view of the entire room. A dirty, tattered hat sat on top of it and at some point between Sherlock trying to find Mycroft in the crowd of Slytherin faces at his table, and panicking about being sorted, someone, he hadn’t caught their name, had been sorted into Hufflepuff. Now, Sherlock was one person closer to the Sorting Hat, and he could feel Molly Hooper jittering about behind him. 

“Will you settle down?” he hissed at her as somebody, he still couldn’t focus enough to catch the names, was sorted into Slytherin.

Perhaps that would be best, he decided, if he was sorted into Slytherin. Maybe Moriarty wasn’t so bad. At least he was interesting. Although that boy that was heading over there right now, someone-or-other Anderson, looked positively horrid.

All too quickly and not quickly enough, Sherlock stood at the front of the line while somebody called Heather Foster, or something, was sorted into Hufflepuff. When Professor Longbottom called his name, it echoed oddly around his skull for a few moments before his legs carried him up the steps and onto the stool. He briefly looked out at the mass of bright faces staring at him before the Sorting Hat was placed on his head, sliding down over his eyes.


End file.
